


Pieces and words

by Inkfire



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Dialogue, Gen, Mystery, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 10:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkfire/pseuds/Inkfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Words fly between them, quickly, back and forth. Clara, watchful, weighs hers, attempts to find her way in the stream of the Doctor's. Words are only words, be they many or one. Who, he thinks—why, she asks. Neither answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pieces and words

**Author's Note:**

> Just a random little dialogue fic, because Clara and Eleven are cool and I like the way they dance and shift around each other. Also because she's quick and clever, way enough to realize that a lot of things about the Doctor and herself aren't as random as they look. Anyway. In which Clara isn't the only mystery. Enjoy!

"A lady in a shop gave me a number, and in you popped," she said conversationally, leaning against the console.

A pause.

"Yes, possibly, probably, indeed. And who was that?" He scratched his cheek.

"Oh, I don't know, how would I know? Someone."

She was watching her own hands, sprawled over gray-blue metal, then her gaze leaped up, she twirled on her heel and looked at him again. Eyes scanning quickly, sliding smoothly up and down—and back up, searching his expression. He fumbled, straightened his bowtie. Clara frowned. "Where did you come from?" she demanded.

"A long time ago. I was staying at a monastery, do you know, they really _were_ lovely and I think the robe suited me ever so well… A bit of quiet, vacation of sorts, very sweet. Time to think and figure things out, love me a change of location, speaking of! Where to now, eh? Where are we off to, Clara Oswald?"

Voice rising in excitement, he pointed a finger at her, her name slipping fast and soft—maybe, was there the slightest _tremble_ —from his mouth. Pensive, she did not budge.

"Why me?"

"Because you! Because Clara Oswin Oswald. You then, you always. Do I need a reason? You were, are _perfect_." Still pointing at her, he narrowed his eyes in a way that did not quite fit the excited face, pressed his lips together and forced himself to silence. She raised an eyebrow.

"You really picked up that Oswin thing, didn't you?"

"It's a cool name. I like that name."

"Well then, Doctor." A sigh, and a smile. She aimed them both at him, gift and warning, with a look that said, _I'll ask again_. "Go ahead. Show me the world."

He clapped and laughed in glee, and she watched him still, irked and amused.


End file.
